


The Montreal Screwjob

by Daisy1600



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Character Development, Hurt/Comfort, Kevin is in denial about his feelings until he isnt, M/M, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Sami’s a huge liar lol, Stress-Eating, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-06-30 21:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15759798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy1600/pseuds/Daisy1600
Summary: After fifteen long years of being in an on-again, off-again fuck-buddy relationship and rivalry with Kevin, Sami finally has the guts to say enough is enough and gives him an ultimatum.Weeks after the fact, Sami falls ill and becomes progressively sicker until he is sent home by WWE doctors, and Kevin soon realizes that he needs to become a better person if he wants to be a part of  his ex-best friend’s life.





	1. Sami’s Ultimatum

Kevin breathed heavily, practically panting into the crook of his arch-nemeses neck as he came down from his high. After a long moment, the man lying beneath him, also breathing heavily— no, gasping for breath under the weight of him as he too worked through the after affects of his earth-shatteringly intense orgasm, finally attempted to speak. 

“That was...” 

“Amazing, I know.” Kevin whispered hoarsely into the dark room lit only by the moonlight streaming in through the window with the curtains parted slightly. They were— well, Kevin was staying in a hotel in Montreal at the moment since they had just fought each other half to death on Raw a couple of hours ago. How they ended up in this predicament... well, as always, they had — or so they _thought_ — taken out all their anger and frustration towards one another in the ring, only to leave the arena, check into their hotel, which was the same fucking one, and Sami had gotten into the elevator with Kevin. 

The ginger had forgone heading up to his own room in order to follow Kevin into his like the lost puppy he is. Immediately after entering the room and closing the door behind themselves, their bags and jackets were on the floor, Sami’s hands gripping the front of Kevin’s t-shirt, pulling the former Universal champion into a deep, feverish kiss. 

“Why...” Sami started only to trail off, swallowing hard and wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue to try and bring some moisture back to his throat that felt as dry as the desert due the... pounding he’d just taken. “Why do you think we always end up like this? I mean, I know _why_ we end up like this, we’re both a couple of idiots, but like... _why_ , Kev?” 

“Aaand moment ruined,” Kevin muttered, rolling off of Sami and onto his back. He got to his feet, slipping off their used condom and tying it off before balling it up in a wad of tissues and tossing it in the trash. Somewhere along the way a bit of semen had ended up on his hands and he hesitated, staring at it for a moment, wondering which one of them it had come from before shrugging and cleaning it off with a few complimentary tissues. “As always, I don’t know what the actual fuck you’re going on about Sami. So either elaborate or get the hell out of my room.”

“Just hours ago we were kicking the shit out of each other, then we were making— having sex, Kev. I just don’t get it. It’s like we’re doomed to go in circles for the rest of our lives like the ponies they have at fairs.” 

Kevin set his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment and attempting to mentally prepare himself to deflect any and every attempt at conversation Sami will no doubt make. He didn’t know the answer to his arch-nemeses questions and the last thing he wanted was to have to think, to have to _dwell_ , which he would no doubt be stuck doing into the late AM after he finally got the resplendent idiot to leave his bed and room. “Sami, you’re not making any goddamn sen—“ 

“We go from being friends to enemies to— to what? Fuck buddies? Kev, this has been going on for as long as we’ve known each other and I just wish— I don’t know... I guess I wish we could just pick one, you know? Don’t get me wrong, the sex is great, but I just... don’t know if I can take this anymore.” Sami finally rolled out of bed, facing away from Kevin as he cleaned himself up with a few tissues and redressed. “I’m thirty-three, Kev. And I don’t mean to... No, I mean to be blunt. I’m giving you an ultimatum. I’m too old to keep playing these games with you. I’m ready for a real, stable relationship. So either we stop all this— this fighting bullshit and you commit to me, or we stop seeing each other all together.”

Kevin stared into the dark, stormy, beaut— sorrowful eyes before him, choosing to focus on the moons reflection in them and not the chocolate brown irises he’s nearly gotten sucked into many a times, much like that one obese kid from that stupid Willie Wonka movie from last century got sucked into that chocolate tube and nearly died.

Swallowing, Kevin gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod of assent. He’d think about it, and think about it a hell of a lot more before eventually either breaking his nemeses poor, fragile, misguided heart by telling him straight to his stupidly cute face that he could stuff the offer up his ass and forget Kevin ever deigned to speak to him, or... or he could just never interact with the ginger outside the ring, essentially ghost him, and he’d get the message loud and clear that way. 

But there was no way in hell he’d ever agree to being Sami’s— what? _Boyfriend?_ It sounded utterly ridiculous and implausible after fifteen years of failed friendship, trying to make a friends with benefits rela— arrangement work, and a rivalry that put every other feud in the entire history of the WWE to absolute fucking shame. 

“Of course...” Sami bit his lip looking skyward — or rather, ceiling-ward — shaking his head in... not disbelief, but something along those lines. Or maybe the complete opposite. “I can’t believe I actually thought for a _second_ that you’d take me seriously for once. That you’d actually want a... You know what, it’s not even important, Kev. Just— forget I ever said anything. I’m leaving. I’ve got a room waiting for me. Wouldn’t want to let it go to waste, now would I?” 

Before Kevin could even begin to process anything his ex-best friend/nemesis said, let alone try and formulate a response, the ska-loving doofus with a heart of gold trudged off, picking his bag up off the floor and exiting the room. He didn’t slam the door shut, but rather turned to look back at Kevin with... blatant pain in his usually bright and dreamy eyes as he slowly closed it until it shut with a soft click. Almost as if he were trying to ingrain the image of Kevin in his memory. 

Walking numbly towards the thick black oak door, Kevin realized Sami had left behind his zip-up hoodie like the doofus he is, and slowly bent over to pick the black mass up off the floor and inhale its sweet, spicy, slightly floral but still musky scent. Wanting to commit it to memory. 

With a heavy heart, it finally dawned on him what that indecipherable emotion on Sami’s face had been. 

Acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo..... I wrote about two thirds of this really long fic a few months ago and am just now beginning to edit and post the chapters lol. 
> 
> And yes, it is an mpreg fic, just so you know. Anyways, let me know what you thought of chapter one! :)


	2. Absence Noted

3 Weeks

While backstage at a taping of Raw, Kevin caught the eye of Sami, who was sitting atop a large crate conversing with Cesaro. It had been three weeks since the incident in Montreal. The Montreal Screwjob, if you will. 

Kevin had thought about Sami’s ultimatum. Oh God did he _think_ about it and what it could mean for them. But he just couldn’t bring himself to believe that they could actually make things _work_ between them. They were both fucked up messes. There’s just no way they could ever have a healthy relationship.

Sami held his gaze for a painfully long moment before tearing his eyes away and looking to the floor. It was a full three seconds before the ginger dared to meet Cesaro’s kind eyes once again. Kevin stared on in... well, he stared, then sniffed and walked off in the direction of catering. In the weeks that they’ve been apart, only trading blows and harsh words in the ring in front of thousands of undeserving people, food has been Kevin’s only real escape. 

Upon entering the rather small room compared to all other ones in the arena, a platter of donuts caught his eye and he found himself being drawn in. He subconsciously shouldered past an exhausted looking Seth Rollins to get to the tray of delectable looking desserts. He ignored the almost inaudible ‘watch it’ he got in return and grabbed a different frosted and sprinkle colored donut in each hand, taking a couple bites of each before putting them back where he got them from which elicited a few choice words from a couple of the worn out and sweaty guys sitting at a nearby table. 

Ignoring their whiney little voices, he grabbed two plates and piled them high with all kinds of treats as well as actual food so he wouldn’t keel over when it was his time to head out to the ring and beat the shit out of Sami and most likely Cesaro as well. Without giving it much thought, he exited catering and weaved his way through the many halls of the arena until he found a nice dark spot behind some empty crates to sit down and scarf down his... dinner in peace. Ah hell, at this point he’s basically eating three dinners a day. Which, a few months ago, Sami would’ve never let him get depressed enough to do. 

By the time he’d finished his first dinner and had left the garbage in place of himself, it was time for him to head out to the ring and vent. Go to war with his ex-best friend, his nemesis, and leave everything in the ring where it _belonged_. Maybe even vaguely — well, maybe to the WWE universe it would be — bring up to fact that things between them were over, and that Sami needed to grow a pair and accept the facts of life. 

What he wasn’t expecting was how... unsteady and pale Sami looked as he marched out to the ring, interrupting Kevin trash talking him on the mic. And, just as he suspected would be the case, the ginger’s ancient buddy Cesaro was not far behind him— the Underdog from the Underground and the Swiss Cyborg talking shit right back until it erupted into a two-on-one fist fight, and Kurt Angle came out to pit the two of them against the former Universal Champion. Making it a two-on-one handicap match. 

It was completely and totally _un_ fair, but somewhere between getting arm-dragged and Blue Thunder Bombed into the unforgiving canvas, Kevin found himself relishing the feel of Sami’s skin against his. Even if it was his nemeses fists that were making contact with his exposed arms, bearded face, and clothed chest. 

 

———

6 Weeks 

Kevin found himself counting the minutes it took for Sami to exit the locker room, use the bathroom, and come back and change. He took _sixteen and a half fucking minutes_ to get back from the bathroom, and another ten to sluggishly get dressed in his tights and boots. Ugh, and don’t even get him _started_ on how long it took Sami to tape his fucking wrists. 

His nemesis had a small bladder and an obsession with drinking water and eating healthily, but in all the months that they’ve been on the Raw roster together — not including the times the ginger had eaten something that he had an intolerance to — he‘s never taken that fucking long. He’s probably sick. Yeah, that’s it. After all, he didn’t have Kevin to remind him to not eat cheese or other such dairy products, and he’d probably... had some sort of whey protein powder for the last couple of weeks that’ve been making kicks to the gut that much worse, and also make him need to shit like a racehorse, if that’s actually a saying. 

Kevin told himself this, tried to make himself believe it while, at the same time, a part of him worried. Wanted to take care of and make Sami take some DayQuil and a day off for fucks sake. God, his best— er, _ex_ -best friend didn’t know when to quit. Didn’t know his limits. Was all but asking to be admitted to a hospital by the trainers and doctors. 

Or maybe the doofus was just tired. He and Kevin _have_ been feuding for quite some time now. Just had a Pay-Per-View match last Sunday (which Kevin won, by the way) and things were... simmering down between them. Kevin has set his sights on Seth’s Intercontinental Championship as of late, and Sami has been acting like a reckless idiot. Going after big guys who pose a major threat to the integrity of his currently pale, fragile body. 

Taking a cursory glance around the fairly empty locker room, Kevin turned his attention to Sami. “You sure you wanna fight Sampson tonight? You look like you’re about to keel over and die.” 

One hand pressed against the small of his back, Sami set his gym bag atop the wooden locker-esque type of storage the WWE provided, and hung up his zip-up hoodie before finally turning to face Kevin. “Oh, so when I want to try and talk to you, have a civilized conversation, I have to ‘fuck off’, but when _you_ so much as **feel** like bothering me, I have to put up with your crap and listen? Know what that is, Kev? That’s horse shit.” Sami then stormed off, slamming the locker room door shut behind him and leaving Kevin to sit on the bench staring at the spot where the ginger stood only a moment ago. 

“Self-sacrificing son of a bitch.” Kevin muttered under his breath. He _hated_ when Sami was... not right, but not exactly wrong either. 

———

7 Weeks

The following week Sami was conspicuously absent backstage at Raw. Kevin had noticed that his... er, nemesis was absent from the three house shows that were held in two different cities this week but had just chalked it up to Kurt making him sit things out for a while until he got over whatever sickness was ailing him and he’d be back in no time. But it looked to him like something was seriously wrong with Sami. It wasn’t like he cared about the pale, sickly, adorable idiot or anything, but it was just plain _weird_ to see his ex-best friend being benched for reasons other than a torn rotator cuff or serious knee injury. 

Guess he’d just have to ask around without seeming to eager or desperate to know where the hell the ginger idiot was. Well, he knew _where_ Sami was, but what he didn’t know was _why_ the hell he was absent. Stomping around backstage, sweating up a storm, Kevin searched every nook and cranny for whoever was closest to his nemesis. At least like emotionally or some crap like that. 

“Cesaro.” He muttered, attempting to sound cold and disinterested even though _he_ was the one chatting up the Swiss. Well, it was more that he was interrupting the insanely hairy tall man who was conversing with with his tag-team partner Sheamus. Didn’t seem to be about anything important, and even if it had been, when has Kevin ever been known to be courteous? 

“Kevin?” Cesaro furrowed his brows in confusion, taking a half step away from the Irish man with the utterly _ridiculous_ haircut to give his full attention at the French-Canadian. “Uh, what’s up?”

Cesaro wasn’t exactly sweet on Kevin, having been the victim of many a fist fights and wars or words, as well as Sami being the Swiss’s close friend since... a hell of a long time ago. Though not as long as Kevin has been, er, close to the ginger for. 

“What’s...” Kevin started only to realize he had like zero game plan going into this conversation. He only knew what result he wanted. “What’s happened to your little friend, huh? Got sick and tired being around you and decided to quit?” He tacked on a arrogant cackle at the end for good measure. 

Instead of glaring at Kevin and telling him the information, and possibly also to fuck the shit off, a slow, sly smirk came over his face and he crossed his arms in... challenge? Knowingness? Whatever it was, Kevin wanted to beat it off of his old ass looking face. “You know Kevin, if you’re worried about your... on-again, off-again friend you could always just call him. He surprisingly hasn’t changed his number, and also _very_ surprisingly hasn’t blocked yours yet.” 

All but blowing steam out of his flared nostrils, Kevin glared intensely at Cesaro, wanting nothing more than to beat the holy hell out of him in the squared circle, pop-up power bombing him straight through the canvas, and giving his the absolute worst concussion of his **life**. Even worse than that one time in the indies when the Swiss moron had suicide-dived outside the ring and landed directly on top of his head on the very lightly padded concrete floor of the armory they’d been wrestling in at the time. 

“Fine. _Don’t_ tell me. Be an asshole. Just know that I will beat the **holy fucking hell** out of you in the ring tonight.” As Kevin stomped off in the direction of... somewhere, Cesaro called after him; all but sprinting to catch up with him so that Sheamus wouldn’t overhear him. 

“He’s been... sick recently. Hasn’t been well enough to leave his parents house all week. Trainers think it’s the flu, but I don’t know. He’s had the flu before, you’d know, you were _there_ taking care of him throughout the whole ugly process, and... well, it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he’s got it now. He’s been throwing up all week, hardly been able to walk, let alone get out of bed. And... I know you guys aren’t exactly on good terms right now, but I think— no I _know_ that he’d really appreciate it if you called him.” At this point, Cesaro was all but begging and _pleading_ for him to call Sami. Not so much with the words he spoke, but with how he said them and the way his eyes were wide with worry. God, either Sami and him were plotting against Kevin to get him to call the bumbling idiot, or — and this was the kicker — the Montreal native was really, truly bedridden and unable to function properly without the assistance of his parents.

Kevin knew how much his ex-best friend loved and cared about his mom and dad, but he also knew how Sami absolutely despised feeling like a burden to them, meaning that he would never allow them to care for him unless it was completely necessary. Guess Sami really was... sick. The thought made Kevin’s stomach roil and he blinked at the man in front of him until his visage came back into focus. 

“Please, Kevin. If you have a heart you’ll at least think about it. Or text him.” 

Nodding numbly, he shouldered past Cesaro rougher than he’d meant to as he headed off in the direction of catering. 

Screw a plate of donuts. The dark, lonely road Kevin was headed down, he needed the whole damn _platter_.


	3. A Trip Down Memory Lane

Later that night, sitting alone in his dark, relatively bland and not to mention _tasteless_ hotel room on the top floor of the Hilton hotel, Kevin stared down at his phone that was currently nestled between his hands. Sami may no longer be his best friend, his nemesis _or_ his fuck buddy, but nonetheless Kevin felt a strange compulsion to call the man who’s name he‘d entered many, many years ago in his contacts as ‘Ginger Idiot’, just to make sure he wasn’t actually _dying_.

And there was absolutely no other reason. No other reason at all. I mean, it wasn’t like he missed the melodic sound of Sami’s laugh, or the way he looked at him when he thought Kevin wasn’t looking, or the feeling of Sami’s lips on his, or even the feeling of his skin slick with sweat moving against his in the most deliriously mind-blowingly erotic way possible as they made— had sex. 

Nope. No other reason at all. 

Breathing out a shaky, exasperated sigh, he flopped backwards the rest of the way so that he was laying flat on his back atop his bed for the night that just so happened to have a billion and a half throw pillows on it as well as a professionally tucked comforter that’s probably been cummed on by a trillion disease-ridden millionaires. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment before unlocking his phone and going to the Sami folder in his camera roll. 

First one was from nine years ago when he got his first an iPhone. Since then he’d kept every precious photo and memory stored safely in his iCloud (as well as being backed up on an external hard drive) but got everything downloaded onto his phone every time he got the newest, insanely overpriced version. It was a selfie of them together at the Apple store, Kevin’s arm slung over Sami’s shoulders and pulling him close to his side. There were wide, toothy grins on both their faces. Kevin could tell they were genuine smiles just by looking at the crinkles by the sides of their eyes. That must’ve been... no, Kevin knew for a fact that it was when they were slightly more than friends. Just days before they were enemies once again. 

He ignored the annoying itchy feeling flaring up beneath his ribs and focused his attention on scrolling further down the page. There was a picture of them at Coney Island that they’d had some stupid tourist in a Hawaiian shirt and a fanny pack take of them. Sami was perched atop Kevin’s back, arms wrapped loosely around his neck since they were deciding to trust each other that week. It didn’t last for very long, but it had been nice while it had. 

Sniffling for some inexplicable reason, he scrolled to the very bottom of the screen and clicked on the most recent picture. It was a candid he’d taken of Sami from far off last month at a house show. His ex-best friend was sitting atop a five foot tall black crate, a plate of food and a cup of water sitting beside him. His long, lean legs were dangling over the side of the thing; his giant, narrow feet kicking back and fourth every so often. 

It was back when Sami had color to his now pale and sickly complexion. Back when he could walk, talk and kick the shit out of Kevin in the ring. He stared at the photo he’d zoomed in on the face of a moment longer before sighing in resignation. It wasn’t long before he was scrolling through his contacts, a hesitant finger hovering a millimeter above the screen. Then, on a whim, he closed the app and opened messenger instead. 

_you up?_

After a few agonizingly long moments, his text was read, and ellipses appeared and disappeared on his screen like hormonal acne until _finally_ — **finally** — he got a text back. 

_What do you want? Did Cesaro put you up to this?_

_heard ur sick. wanted to make sure ur not dying_. 

_I don’t think I am, but I sure as hell feel like it. My parents are taking me to the doctors if my fever doesn’t break by morning._

_what r your symptoms?_

_I don’t know why you’re showing a sudden interest in my well being, but if you really want to know, then I suppose I might as well spill. I can hardly walk. Everything, especially my stomach, hurts like holy hell. And everything I eat comes right back up. Based on the symptoms it could be the flu, appendicitis or like... cancer._

Immediately after reading that ginger fucking idiot’s text, Kevin found himself on his feet, pacing the expanse of his aggravatingly bland hotel room as he angrily exited messenger and called the number belonging to the man who evidently wanted him to go into **Cardiac. Fucking. Arrest**. 

“What the fuck do you mean **cancer**?!” Kevin growled into the phone as soon as Sami had picked up. He was absolutely _livid_ , but breathed deeply and heavily to try and calm himself down as to not scare the no doubt already terrified Sami. Hell, even Kevin would be scared if he were in the same predicament. He _is_ scared. “Sorry, I don’t— I don’t know what came over me...” Kevin trailed off, swallowing a couple of times before attempting to continue. “I uh... Did the trainers and doctors tell you that that might be the case or... I don’t know what’s been happening lately, so just— talk to me, Sami. Please, just... talk to me.”

“Sorry, Kev. I-I didn’t mean to nearly give you a heart attack. When I wrote that, it was more of terrible attempt at a joke than anything else. Sorry. Uh, the WWE doctors gave me a check-up after my match on Raw last week, told me to go home, drink lots of fluids and get some rest. Said it’s probably just the flu but I should go to the doctor they recommended just in case. But uh, other than that... I haven’t gotten a diagnoses by a doctor with the right equipment yet, since they can’t carry a ton of machines on the road with them... obviously. The possibility of it being cancer, even though I eat pretty damn healthily and it doesn’t run in my family, I got off of Yahoo answers. The thought of it hasn’t really left my mind for the past three days. And I just... I don’t know where I’m going with this, Kev, I just... I’m scared, y’know? I’ve never been this sick before.” 

Kevin breathed a loud sigh of relief, trudging his way over to the bed and flopping back onto it. “I-I know I’ve been a huge dick to you these past couple of... months, but you better fucking promise me you’re gonna be okay. Please, Sami—“ Kevin broke off into an incoherent ramble until the ill man on the other end of the line effortlessly calmed him down the way he always seemed to be able to do. Well, okay, maybe not _always_ , but Sami’s typically able to do so when they’re being amicable with one another. 

“Kev, Kevin, I don’t care about what we’ve said and done to each other these last couple of months. None of that matters anymore, okay? I promise I’ll call you tomorrow once I get a diagnoses. Love you.”

Biting down on his lip to keep everything — his thoughts, feelings, desires — from bubbling up inside himself and spilling out, which would ruin _everything_ , Kevin set his phone down beside his head and wished he could be there in Montreal at the doctors office tomorrow morning to hold his best friend’s hand and _make_ him be alright. Show Sami just how much he cares about him and stay by his side till the end of the line— 

“Yeah. You too.” He said instead, then listened to the sound of Sami’s labored breathing for a heartbreaking moment that seemed to slow down time itself, before finally ending the call. 

“Fuck!” He swore in the dark of his lonely, too big hotel room. He crawled further up his bed, shoving all the stupid, nonsensical throw pillows to the floor, then pulled back the no doubt disease ridden comforter that brought him absolutely no comfort in his time of despair, and crawled beneath it. 

If he shed a few fat tears over not being able to _be with_ and take care of the one person he holds dearest to himself in this cruel, fucked up world we live in, nobody was the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating for a couple of months! And for this chapter being really short... but I promise more will be coming soon! :)


	4. Star Crossed Lovers?

It was ten in the morning and Kevin was already back on the road, driving towards Cincinnati, Ohio for a house show Tuesday night, when his phone started ringing. “Fuck me,” he grit out through clenched teeth as he attempted to drive with one hand while simultaneously digging around in his gym bag he’d _stupidly_ left sitting on the backseats with the other. 

After a long moment spent swerving on the luckily deserted highway, Kevin finally managed to retrieve his stupid phone. He didn’t have to look at the screen to know it was Sami who was calling but did anyways. He smiled at the caller ID he’d long ago set for his idiot best friend and accepted the call. 

“Hey, Kev...” Sami whispered into the phone, the soft, hesitant sound of his voice traveling over seas and state lines to reach Kevin and turning his blood ice cold. 

He’d spent the majority of last night and this morning psyching himself up, preparing to hear not so great news but at the same time praying to God for a miracle, but hearing how complexly and utterly _broken_ his best friend sounded made him question whether or not there even was a higher power. 

Shaking his head in a vain attempt at trying to clear the negative, debilitating thoughts racing through his mind, he dropped his phone on the passengers seat and cut across three lanes to exit the freeway. 

It wasn’t long before he was pulling into the nearest gas station, parking in a spot reserved for sorry sacks of ass who needed to pump air into their tires. He didn’t give a shit. No, today was the day his... his best friend was going to tell him the diagnosis his doctor had given him. 

“Yeah, Sami?” He prompted, quieting his breathing until all he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears and Sami’s nervous stuttering on the other end of the line. “I just— I just parked, so I’m ready to hear the news. I think.” 

“Don’t worry, Kev. Everything... everything’s fine. Dr. Fortworth did a uh, very thorough examination and he basically said that I probably caught the... the uh, stomach flu from someone at a house show a couple of— last week and that I, uh... that I’m deficient in a few important vitamins and minerals or something like that, so he recommended me a good brand of prena— fuck... Uh, a good brand of multivitamins that I’ll be taking for the foreseeable future. That’s— that’s definitely what happened. Nothing else. Right. Uh, I should probably let you get back to driving pretty soon, but it was nice getting to talk to you. Okay, bye—“ 

Kevin couldn’t help but let a frown slip onto his face at how awkward and nervous Sami was to tell him he wasn’t dying and was going to be just fine, but chose not to question his integrity. The last thing he wanted was to start a fight the literal _day_ after they’d finally gotten back on speaking terms. 

“Don’t you _dare_ hang up on me!” Kevin shouted, then regretted it immediately afterwards. He didn’t _mean_ to take out his anger and frustration on Sami, and felt like such an asshole every time he yelled at him, but it always felt as though it were too late to apologize. Kevin knew it would be a difficult habit to curb, but Sami’s friendship was well worth the effort. 

He took a deep breath, released it and softened his tone of voice. “Please, Sami.” He said in lieu of an apology. 

“Oh... uh, alright. I‘ve got some free time. A, uh, a lot actually. What did you wanna talk about?” 

“Nothing. Everything... I don’t know. Uh, when are you coming back to TV? I miss bossing you around, making you drive 80% of the time.” Kevin threw in a forced, awkward sort of laugh, hoping Sami knew he wasn’t being completely serious. And besides, Kevin almost never let Sami drive the rental. He was terrible at it. Which was yet another annoying and endearing thing about Sami to add to the already mile long list. 

“Yeah, about that... Uh, Dr. Fortworth sent my medical files over to the WWE doctors and trainers, and they said I won’t be cleared for a while. And besides, we haven’t been carpooling for quite some time now. I think you’ll survive a few mon— uh, a few weeks without me just fine, Kev.” 

“But if it’s just the flu, why would they bench you for more than a week?” Kevin asked, suspicious once more about whether or not Sami was lying to him and about what exactly. “Sami, are you lying to me about the severity of your condition? Cause if you say no and I find out later that you _are_ I’m gonna—“ 

“No!“ Sami was quick to deny the allegation. He then audibly swallowed and repeated himself; albeit much more calmly. “No, of course not, Kevin. I mean, why would I bother trying to conjure up a lie when I’m already using practically all of my energy and brain function talking to you? It just wouldn’t make any sense is all.”

Replaying everything Sami had said to him in the last five minutes in his head, Kevin had to admit that anything the ginger said that contradicted itself or didn’t match up completely with other things he’s said could all be chalked up to him being exhausted and, well, sick with the flu. 

“You’ve got a point there,” He admitted. “Uh, so how’re your parents doing? Your mom still have that crocheting business on the side?” He asked to try and steer the conversation in a less heavy, more... er, positive direction. They spoke on the phone for another fifteen minutes until Sami had to go due to feeling tired and nauseous. 

In no time at all, Kevin was back on the road, a scarf and beanie he’d stolen from Sami’s suitcase a few months ago protecting him from the cold bite of winter along with the heater he’d cranked up high. 

He was relieved to hear that his... best friend (was to even allowed to refer to him as such?) was going to be alright, and that he supposedly wasn’t dying from fucking _cancer_. He just wished that his— uh, the ginger idiot could return to Raw sooner rather than later. 

After all, Kevin did seem to have a bit of a possessive streak when it came to his on-again, off-again best friend/fuck buddy. As Kevin thought about it, he had to admit that ‘fuck buddy’ was a bit of a crude term to describe what they shared. Though, to be fair, ‘star-crossed lovers’ didn’t sound much better either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve come to the conclusion that as long as I don’t heavily edit everything I write (which I am super anal about lol) I can actually update some of my fics! So hopefully I can get this one finished up sometime soon. 
> 
> Especially considering I have most of it written already haha


End file.
